A Great Beginning
by DinoDina
Summary: Merlin and Arthur are working on a project together, and then... Merthur AU. Oneshot.


Merlin followed Arthur from his fancy car—he hadn't bothered to memorize the model, much to Arthur's annoyance—to the grand entrance of his father's mansion. Arthur wasn't allowed, even at his age, to enter through the back door, so whenever Merlin went home with him, he was forced to use the main entrance as well.

The hall was large, with a tall ceiling and three chandeliers, and the grand staircase was visible from the large oak door. There were few servants visible in the house at this point, since Mr. Pendragon was working and didn't like to be disturbed, so Arthur and Merlin proceeded through the mansion at their own discretion.

"Coat and shoes in my room, I think," Arthur said as they neared it. "It takes you long enough to find them in an area of two meters, I'd rather you not mess up the formal closet."

Merlin nodded, an incredibly serious expression on his face. "Of course."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Never."

"Shut up, Merlin."

Arthur's door was always locked, and he was the only one who had a key—though both he and Merlin suspected that his father had tried to get a copy—so he unlocked it and let Merlin enter first. As Merlin took off his boots and jacket as directed, Arthur locked the door once more.

He turned around to Merlin, who was hanging his jacket on a chair. He raised an eyebrow. "Not on the floor this time?"

"Clearly." Merlin, too, remembered what had happened the last time he'd left it on the floor—he'd tripped and Arthur had tripped after him, and they'd ended up tangled together.

"You can put the boots by the door," Arthur continued, taking off his own shoes and jacket, throwing them near his bed in nowhere near as neat a manner as he'd told Merlin to do.

It was more of a joke than an actual order, but Merlin did as told, then followed Arthur in taking his laptop and papers from his backpack and settling on the bed. Arthur was next to him, almost touching, and they began to peruse the internet for answers to the newest project their economics professor had assigned, half-working together even though their projects were separate.

They worked in silence for several minutes, each absorbed in the task at hand.

Merlin was typing when he felt—or thought he felt—Arthur move closer. Their shoulders touched, and he felt the movement of Arthur's typing, as well. With there being no other noise—the only other person in the house was Arthur's father, who worked with many people in silence in a different wing of the mansion—Merlin became acutely aware of the steady clicking of the keys on Arthur's laptop, and of Arthur's breathing. He matched his own breathing to the steady _in-out-in-out_ of Arthur's so as not to feel out of place.

"Water?" Arthur asked then, almost startling Merlin.

He nodded. "Sounds good."

"It's over there." Arthur waved to an area next to his desk and motioned for Merlin to go there. "Get me one, too, eh?"

Grumbling, Merlin went over. "You'd think I was your servant, the way you go on." He eyed the water bottles in his hand. "I'll toss it, shall I?"

"No."

Arthur's tone left no room for argument, and for good reason. The last time Merlin had thrown something—several years ago, and he would _never_ live it down—, he'd tripped and ended up in hospital with a black eye and a mild concussion. Arthur had taken it upon himself to watch over him, and had firmly decided that while there were _many_ things Merlin was good at—not that he'd ever admit it aloud—sports weren't one of them.

Merlin shrugged and walked the water over. "Wasn't going to, anyway."

"You're ridiculous."

"I know." Merlin grinned. "You love it."

Arthur grinned, too. "You wish."

 _Yeah_ , Merlin thought, not answering. _I do_.

"So." Arthur clapped his hands together, the break over. "There's a reason I went to the same uni as you, and it's not because you're my best friend. You're good at the school stuff—"

"So are you."

"Yeah, but I'm lazy." Arthur shrugged and managed his best puppy eyes. "Group project?"

They worked for the next few hours, just until the bell rang for dinner. It was ridiculously outdated, as were most things in the mansion, but it was useful.

Arthur looked curiously at Merlin. "Staying?"

"I suppose so." He stayed for dinner most days, anyway, his own home being far from the school and his dorm being too lonely.

"Let's head down, then."

They were just exiting Arthur's room—Arthur was locking the door—when Mr. Pendragon's servant appeared, bowing courteously and saying, "Your father would like to see you before dinner."

He departed before Arthur could respond, and he turned apologetically to Merlin. "My father's definition of 'before dinner' is 'for the duration of dinner', I'm afraid."

Merlin laughed. "Yeah, I know. Go on, talk to your dad. I can see myself out, might meet Gwen for a midnight snack later is she's not too busy snacking on Lancelot."

That drew a chuckle out of Arthur. "Alright, then."

Merlin turned around to go in the direction of the exit—the grand entrance again, but at this point, he figured he should have been used to the Pendragon dramatics—when Arthur's hand fell onto his arm, stopping him. "Yes?"

Arthur was smiling, Merlin thought, but he was suddenly too close to be able to tell the full scope of his emotions. "Goodbye kiss?"

Merlin flashed back to a week ago, when, as he was leaving the mansion, he'd pecked Arthur on the check, just because—they were friends, _weren't they_ , it was just because he'd felt like it, and that's what Arthur was going to do—and he was nodding and just about to say "Yes"—

And Arthur's lips were on top of his, and there were four small kisses in quick succession, and Merlin kissed back, his hand holding Arthur's head and Arthur holding his.

All too soon, Arthur pulled away and smiled.

Then he was gone, off to the talk with his father, and Merlin was showing himself out of the mansion, his breathing quick and a smile on his face.

He walked over to the main road, still smiling, and caught the first bus that came through.

Arthur's house was only twenty minutes from Merlin's dorm, and because there were few stops in between, he arrived after half an hour. It was dark outside, it being early spring, so the streetlights were on, and Merlin navigated through the crowds of students to reach his building.

He fell asleep almost immediately after he got to his room, still thinking of his and Arthur's kiss. It wasn't that he was smitten, because he wasn't. Merlin had had relationships, and despite his long friendship with Arthur, the recent feelings of lust were just that: recent. They'd snuck up on him, and now he and Arthur had kissed— _Arthur_ had kissed him, which was even stranger.

It had felt… nice. Arthur was a business major and he was a medical history major, so the English language wasn't either of their strong suits, so "nice" was the word Merlin settled on. The next day, too, he thought about the kiss, and still, the only things that came to mind were "nice" and "good" and "sweet" and "great" and "I'd really like to do that again".

He only hoped that Arthur would want the same.

(The next morning, he got a text from his friend, and it turned out that Arthur _did_ , in fact, want the same. It also turned out that Arthur not only wanted to do "that" again, but that he also wanted to cuddle, and go on dates, and that—if Merlin was free, of course—there was a good film playing in a nearby cinema, and would he want to go?)

(Merlin did.)


End file.
